


Turning Point

by YetAnotherJanewayFan



Series: Turning Point Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Horror, Imprisonment, Insanity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 22:23:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1486267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YetAnotherJanewayFan/pseuds/YetAnotherJanewayFan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captured, tortured, and weak, our heroes lose their minds. One-shot. Dark Themes, (not for minor's). If you feel as if anything should be added, discarded: PM me, let me know. HPSS</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turning Point

**Author's Note:**

> Part one to the 'Turning Point' series.

**Turning Point**

* * *

 

He couldn't remember how he got there. He didn't know how he was caught or how they found out. All he knew was that someone was dragging him across a hard stone floor and he was immensely out of it. He remembered bowing at the feet of the mad man they called Lord. He remembered kissing the hem of said man's robes and being granted access to stand. He remembered looking into red orbs and wondering... but his memory goes blank and he can't remember what he was wondering. He couldn't figure out how they got him from his cell, because surely he had to be in one for he felt tired and weak: Dirty and grimy, as if he hadn't showered. He couldn't remember how many days went by, but he did remember feeling as if he was dying. He remembered the order for the great snake to eat him, but after that every thing is blank. It took him longer than he would ever admit, that he had gaps in his memory. His booted feet dragged against the cold stone floor, or at least he imagined it was cold, and he felt as if he hadn't eaten in days; or was it weeks. Months. Or had it been years? Sluggishly he felt himself tumble to the ground at the feet of a man he once called Lord, but he didn't recall any of the conversation and he found himself wondering if he had not been drugged. He felt a burst of pain go up his spine and shoot through every nerve in his body and he wondered if this was a Cruciatus Curse. He didn't have long to think about it, when suddenly he was being dragged back the way he had come, though if it were by the same two people he could not phantom.

It seemed like more days went by. For all he knew, it could very well have been years, before something was tossed into the cell with him. He could see messy black hair and a pale complexion. He could see a slender body and the steady rise and fall of said things chest and it slowly crept on him that this was not a thing but a person. He felt as if he should recognize this figure, but he was distracted by the alarming amount of blood that was pulling from somewhere under the body. Once the cell door was shut tightly, he mad his way over to the body and turned it over as gently as he could. He gasped at the sight of various cuts bleeding. Some were bleeding lightly and other were drying in there blood flow. But when Severus caught sight of the blood that was slowly pouring down the person's face from a gash deep on the forehead, Severus cursed. The blood was running from the gash, which he guessed was knuckle deep, and pooling around the person's eyes. While the man ripped a strip of his tattered robes to make a make-shaft bandage around the person's head, said man noticed that he was helping a boy, whom appeared to be about seventeen in age and apparently, but unsurprisingly, unconscious.

The man couldn't help the wave of familiarity that radiated off of the boy but couldn't phantom on who this boy was or how he might know him. He didn't know how long he sat there, but he knew he went to sleep at least four times, before the boy started to stir. Eyelids blinked open cautiously revealing brilliant green eyes, now wide with unmasked terror as he took in his surroundings. The man wanted to comfort the boy, but he knew he could not. His voice was unused, long gone from all the torture he had been through, not that he remembered that. Before he got to contemplate on it any longer, the boy was sitting up, clutching his forehead and fighting off a wave of dizziness as he tried to fight his way into an upright position. The boy's green eyes scanned the interior of the cell, only to land on the man himself. The boy opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again swallowing thickly. The man surmised that this boy must of had the same issue he had with speaking but was surprised when his voice came out in a scratchy whisper that made the man cringe.

"Where am I?"

The man was surprised at how soft the voice sounded even scratchy and obviously dry. Said man swallowed thickly himself, before his once elegant voice came out in a harsh breathy whisper.

"A cell," it was simple and seemingly harmless, but it made the boy cringe and lay back down. 

The man wondered if said boy was thinking what he often thought when he woke up in this dank place he now called home: 'This is all a dream.'

The boy had not moved for several moments, or it could have been hours, who really knew anymore?

"Why am I here," the voice was slightly less scratchy, but it still made the man cringe horribly.

"How should I know," he swallowed thickly, "I don't even know why I am here."

There seemed to be a thoughtful pause before the boy struggled up again, visibly weakened.

"Is this your house," he asked somewhat incredulously.

"It could be," the man replied, more used to talking now than he was ten minuted ago, "but why would they come here to drag me away every so often? Why can I not leave on my own?"

"So not your house then," the boy surmised, taking in his surroundings again.

"No," the man echoed looking around as well, as if this was the first time he ever saw this cell.

"Looks like we will be stuck here for a while. What's your name at least," the boy asked, a hand clutching his head to ward off dizziness.

"He calls me Severus," the newly named Severus said eyeing the boy with concern.

The boy stiffened, it seems he didn't need Severus to elaborate on who calls him such, instead the boy let out a shaky sigh and said, "He calls me Harry."

There was an awkward pause between the two before Severus scuttled closer.

"Maybe you should lay down... Harry."

The name felt strange on his tongue for some reason, but Severus wasn't sure why. After all, this was the first time he was meeting the boy, wasn't it?

Harry nodded, looking paler than he was when he first came here, and laid on the cold stone floor. This time Severus knew it was cold for the boy... Harry... gave a violent shiver.

"How long do you recon we'll be in here?"

Severus had no answer to the softly spoken question. He did not even know how long he had been in here already.

"Rest," Severus said instead of replying.

Harry did just that.

* * *

Severus woke to being dragged through corridors. It should have alarmed him that he had grown accustomed to strangers coming into his cell and hauling him off while he slept, but he didn't have the energy to care. Once again he was thrown at the feet of the man he once called Lord. Lord was speaking, though Severus was not paying attention. He never paid attention anymore, and found himself even more distracted as he thought of the boy waiting in his cell.

"Severus," Lord said, an edge of cruelty to his tone that made Severus look at him.

Lord hissed when he saw the utter blankness on his former servants face.

"Crucio!"

Severus didn't register the pain, nor did he register being hauled to his feet and carted back to his cell. He didn't notice passing Harry in the corridor, being hauled by another two men. He didn't even register that he had been thrown in his cell like a sack of potatoes. He did wonder, however, where Harry was before he lost consciousness.

* * *

 

They couldn't count down the days, because they didn't have any means too. They were two weak to find weapons or carve a knife from twigs that blew in occasionally from the open bared window before the guards came to fetch them. They were too weak most days to hold a conversation, and even when they did Severus never initiated those conversations himself. It was always Harry. There conversations were never long, nor did they make much sense. Half the time there were four words shared a piece between them. Sometimes even less. This day in particular, no one talked. They just shivered at the cold winter breeze that blew in through the window. Harry still had a gash on his forehead, though it was starting to scab over. Severus felt bad for the boy, for he wore in nothing but tattered over-sized cloths that had more holes than Severus' own robes. Severus wondered how long it had been since the boy was here, but knew it would be no point in asking. If Severus hadn't know how long he was here on when they would get to leave, or even where here was, he had no expectation that the boy might. He edged closer the the boy when he began to shake violently in his sleep and pulled him close. The boy let out a sigh of what Severus hoped was relief, and his violent shaking turned into harsh tremors. Severus assumed it was relief when the boy snuggled closer to him.

Days, weeks, months, years: Later, neither was coherent any longer. Severus was already at insanity's door before Harry came to be in his cell. Often Severus would sit up, look around their cell, and have a hearty laugh at a joke where the punch line was surly missed. When those days happened, Harry would tense, long since stopped using his voice, and stare blankly at the window: as if contemplating escape, but knowing he didn't have the strength. One day, out of the blue, Harry began to laugh too. Both were lost now and Lord watched from the shadows as a traitor, and his enemy broke. Pleased with this new progress, Lord fled.

Could it have just been hours? Hours, of grueling laughter, of hysteric crying, of terrified screaming, and pained silence, before someone walked into the cell holding a tray of the first meal they had had in a long time. Both ate like starving hyenas, licking the dirt rimmed plate clean together before fighting over it. When the guard caught them fighting, he laughed, a hearty rich laugh, and snatched the tray away.

Was it days, weeks, months or years, before Harry looked Severus in the eye and asked him who he was? Was it seconds, minuted, hours, days, weeks, months or years, before Severus replied?

From the fog they were each fighting, Harry, who seemed only to recall the older man's name started talking out of the blue.

"Severus?"

Only when said man looked at him, an emotion that was surely insanity hinting behind his eyes, did Harry speak.

"I had a professor once. He was mean to me. When I was eleven I went to school for the first time and he asked me questions I didn't know. I was only eleven, he hadn't taught me yet, but he seemed to think I would know things. I hated him. He always made me fell inferior, made me think that I was weak, naive, stupid..."

Severus listened and he waited. Waited for the boy to continue to speak, but that didn't happen. Nothing happened and so Severus went back to laughing, and Harry went back to cringing.

"Potter," Severus suddenly snapped and watched as Harry flinched and shrunk back into the stone wall.

After a moment, Harry regained himself, looking around for this person Severus was suddenly irate with and found no one. It was his turn to laugh.

* * *

Severus shuddered. It was like waking up from a cold hard dream. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he had regained his mind, but he was sure it was there. Looking around for his rescuer, he found only Harry, spread out on the stone floor. Hand down his pants and panting. He wasn't sure what brought this on. He wasn't even sure who Harry was, but he knew deep down that he had to know this man, after all why else would he be in Severus' room, playing steadily with himself. Severus got to his feet shakily, and marched over to Harry. He was sure that the boy was wanking, if his moans were anything to go by and the sight made him hungry. Made his mouth water. Made him want to see, and taste and touch. Made him want more. So with a boldness Severus, in his right mind, would never posses, he swooped down to the ground and snatched the boys had away with one had replacing it with the other. Harry let out a howl of pleasure, before frantically thrusting into the older man's hand. Severus was pleased, though not entirely sure why, but cupped himself with the other hand and leaving Harry wanking hand to fall by his side on the stoned floor.

Harry didn't seem to care that it made a cracking noise when it hit, all his attention was focused on the pleasure of being pleased and he didn't rightly care what was going on. With bold precision, Severus leaned forward and captured the man lips with his own. Something stirred in the back of his mind. Something long forgotten but there and creeping. Severus pulled back as if burned and Harry whimpered.

"Don't stop. You're not allowed to stop!"

That statement seemed to stir something else in Severus' mind as he began to fist the young man again. He watched as a silent moan flanked past Harry's lips, and saw him take in his bottom lip to nibble. Enraptured, Severus sucked on it again and watched as Harry shuddered beneath him. Something else seemed to nag at him from within his mind, encouraging him to move closer and to be bolder. So he did. He moved closer and stripped the young man of his clothing, piece by piece, never noticing that Harry already had him down to his trousers and had no intention of stopping. With force that Severus did not think either of them possessed at the moment, Harry flipped them in one swift motion impaling himself on a dry hard cock and something snapped in both of there brains making them cry out. Neither knew what was happening, they were just frantically moving and bucking before someone violently yanked them away from one another and both cried out in frustration, before bright light engulfed them and the person holding Harry by the scruff of his neck screamed as a blinding light filled halls and cells and rooms alike.

Roughly an hour after that, Auror's appeared on the scene to a mass of dead bodies, and two rutting figures. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks stared in stunned silence, shocked by the sight of a former Professor and an ex student caught in a compromising position. Both were brought back to there senses by a pained scream that was only now recognized as orgasm and stared as one laid atop the other, both panting and looked close to death.

Tonks helped Harry sit and was shocked to see eyes of dulled deadened green staring up at her without recognition. Shacklebolt lifted a weary Severus up and noted that said man had his eyes closed and his breathing was slowly fading to labored breaths. Both Auror's looked toward each other, not knowing what to do to help and was startled when both men gave a hearty laugh. Never noticing the blood that oozed out of Harry's arse, or the same blood that coated Severus cock.

...and in that moment both Auror's knew, that this was their turning point.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted to fanfiction.net


End file.
